Jae-Hyun slumped against a jagged rock, his chest rising and falling in steady but shallow breaths. The last boss of Day 3 had finally collapsed, its massive form crumbling into shimmering particles, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion. His sword was still gripped tightly in his aching fingers, and he could barely muster the strength to sheath it.
He forced his head back against the rock, trying to ignore the burning in his limbs. His thirty-minute rest period had started, and he had no intention of wasting it.
His system interface flickered to life before him, an ever-present reminder of how deep he was in this punishment. He scrolled through his inventory with deliberate care. Food, potions, stamina boosters. Supplies were dwindling. Too quickly. The system’s 10x price inflation made every purchase feel like a knife in the gut, but he had no choice. The waves were getting harder, the monsters more relentless. If he didn’t buy more, he wouldn’t survive the next day.
His fingers trembled as he navigated the interface, his vision swimming for a moment. The act of focusing on the glowing text took more effort than it should have. I need to be careful. I can’t afford to waste resources.
He barely had time to close his menu before the next wave arrived.
Jae-Hyun exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as the first wave of Day 4 descended upon him. The monsters surged forward as expected, their grotesque forms blending into the twisted, fractured landscape.
He cut through them with precision, his blade carving clean arcs through the air, but something felt different.
The monsters weren’t attacking recklessly anymore.
They baited him, faked openings, moved together. It was as if something had learned his patterns—and adjusted.
The first pack fell, their bodies dissolving into nothingness. Jae-Hyun took a step back, steadying himself for his usual moment of rest—
Then, the notification hit.
System Notification: Rest Period Reduced to 30 Minutes.
Jae-Hyun’s breath hitched, his body freezing for a moment before his mind fully processed the words.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He clenched his jaw, forcing back the urge to lash out. Of course. The system never let things stay predictable for long. It always had to mess with him.
He cursed the system under his breath, but deep down, he had expected this. It’s always like this. Never lets up, never gives me a break.
His body ached, his exhaustion threatening to drag him under, but he couldn’t afford to waste time complaining. Every second spent arguing with the system was a second of precious rest lost.
Jae-Hyun forced himself to sit, shoving a ration bar into his mouth. He chewed mechanically, the dry, flavorless lump feeling like ash in his mouth. But it didn’t matter. He needed the energy. He couldn’t afford to waste a single second of his already shortened break.
Time blurred. The waves never stopped.
Jae-Hyun had long since abandoned any hope of feeling refreshed after a rest period. Thirty minutes was barely enough to chew stale food, much less recover. His body moved on instinct now—parry, evade, strike, repeat.
Every few hours, he burned through more potions, the rising cost eating away at his remaining credits. He had leveled up multiple times, but the system’s relentless scaling made the increase feel meaningless.
The only thing that mattered was survival.
And Jae-Hyun was barely holding on.
By Day 6, his exhaustion was nearly unbearable. For the past 72 hours, he had rested only 30 minutes every 4 hours.
It was insanity.
The only real rest he could get was when he killed the final boss of a day’s waves. It was the only way to get more than half an hour of breathing room. If he failed to kill the last boss before his rest window? He was forced into another wave with no time to recover.
And the worst part? He couldn’t even summon the creatures he killed here.
His shadow ability refused to register any of these monsters as valid summons. Whatever governed this punishment, it ensured he had to fight alone.
Jae-Hyun collapsed onto a flat patch of scorched ground, staring at the crimson-lit sky above him. He had made it through another day.
One more to go.
His fingers trembled slightly as he brought up his sub-quest menu, something he had ignored for days now.
Sub-Quest Progress: 8,037/10,000 Kills.
Jae-Hyun blinked. He had nearly forgotten the sub-quest even existed. He had never intended to complete it—it was too exhausting, too much.
But now, seeing how close he was…
He hesitated.
Could I finish it?
The thought lingered. Killing nearly 2,000 monsters in a single day? After what he had already endured?
His instincts screamed at him to ignore it. To just survive Day 7, take his reward, and get out.
But another part of him—the part that refused to accept limits—knew he had to try.
If he pushed himself just a little harder, he could finish it.
Even if it meant sacrificing more of his already pitiful rest time.
The exhaustion clouding his mind made the situation harder to judge. He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He made small mistakes in combat, second-guessed his dodges, misjudged enemy movements. Was this really a good idea?
Yet, despite all that—he couldn’t walk away. Not now.
Jae-Hyun let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
He had to go all out.
Even if it meant not resting at all.
Day 7 was going to decide everything.
The moment Jae-Hyun stepped onto the battlefield for Day 7, he knew something was different. The world around him had shifted—again.
The cracked wasteland had collapsed into ruin, and now, he stood in the middle of a dead city, its towering buildings shattered and barely standing.
The sky overhead was no longer just a dull crimson; it had deepened into something twisted, an eerie black-and-red swirl of clouds moving unnaturally. The air felt heavier, suffocating, as if the battlefield itself was pressing down on him.
The ground beneath him was no longer dry, cracked earth—it was paved with stone, littered with debris, half-collapsed bridges stretching into nowhere. The city had once been grand, but now it was nothing more than a graveyard.
Statues of warriors frozen in battle lined the roads, their faces eroded beyond recognition, their weapons broken and shattered. They stood as reminders—or warnings—of those who had failed before him.
Then, the system spoke.
System Notification: Rest Period Reduced to 10 Minutes.
Jae-Hyun let out a breathless laugh. No anger, no frustration—just raw amusement.
"Tch. You think that’s going to stop me?" He shook his head. "I wasn’t planning on resting anyway. If anything, you just helped me."
He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. This was it.
One last day. One final push.
The monsters came as expected, but Jae-Hyun barely registered them anymore. They weren’t weaker—he was just numb to it.
His movements were precise, his instincts razor-sharp despite the fatigue. He had no stamina left, no real strength left in his muscles—but it didn’t matter. He moved because he had to.
Kill. Move. Kill. Move.
The enemies blurred together. He wasn’t keeping count—
Then, the system mocked him.
“Seems like you’re enjoying this.”
Jae-Hyun’s body stiffened mid-swing, his blade slamming through a monster’s chest.
The system had never spoken like this before.
Then, another message appeared.
“Let’s see how you do with this.”
The battlefield shifted violently, the already-broken cityscape collapsing further as something massive stirred.
The final pre-boss wave arrived.
Jae-Hyun’s smirk vanished.
This wasn’t like before.
For the first time in this punishment, he really felt like he couldn’t keep up.
The enemies came in relentless numbers, but this time, they were faster, stronger, more coordinated.
Jae-Hyun felt himself slipping. His dodges weren’t perfect anymore. His body lagged, his vision blurred at the edges.
For the first time, he was constantly injured.
Every few seconds, something slashed at him, forced him back, made him burn through another potion.
He didn’t even care how many potions he used anymore.
It didn’t matter. He had to keep going.
The timer for the wave was still running—
22 minutes remaining.
Then, it happened.
A sudden chime cut through the madness.
System Notification: Sub-Quest: ‘Echoes of Endless Strife’ – Complete.
A second message appeared:
[See Reward]
Jae-Hyun forced himself away from the monsters, retreating to the side as his interface flickered before him. His fingers, still slick with sweat and trembling from fatigue, tapped the notification.
Reward: XP Multiplier – Increases by 0.01x for every enemy killed. No limit detected.
He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. "Would've been nice if I got this earlier..." he muttered, dodging a stray attack. Then, despite the exhaustion burning through his body, a small grin formed. "Well, no use complaining now. Let's make the best use out of this."
There was no time to dwell on it. The wave was still ongoing. He had to keep fighting.
He exhaled sharply. He did it.
He had no time to process it.
The wave was still ongoing. He had to keep fighting.
The final wave ended, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, the battlefield fell silent.
Jae-Hyun stood in the center of the ruined city, blade dragging against the stone pavement, his breath coming in slow, ragged gulps.
Then—
The ground beneath him trembled—not just from impact, but from something deeper, something unnatural. The very air grew heavier, pressing down on his lungs like invisible chains. A force beyond the system itself was gathering. Then—he saw it.
Something was coming.
Jae-Hyun lifted his head, his fingers tightening around his sword. The moment he saw it, he hesitated.
A towering colossus of judgment emerged from the ruins. Ten meters tall, an armored titan plated in unbreakable obsidian, cracks of crimson energy pulsing from its exposed core.
It had no face, only a deep void within its helmet, its empty gaze burning with the same eerie glow that pulsed through Jae-Hyun’s weapon.
Then, he saw its arms.
Four of them.
Each held a weapon, each representing a different way to completely overpower him.
System Notification:
-
A colossal warhammer – Destruction incarnate.
-
An unbreakable shield – Defense beyond anything he’d seen.
-
A summoning tome – Capable of calling lesser enforcers.
-
A chains-forged gauntlet – Restricting movement, binding him in place.
His system flickered.
Then—
“Did you expect this to be easy?”
The system laughed.
“You should have just run.”
Jae-Hyun exhaled. So that’s how it was.
He had come too far to stop now.
The final battle had begun.
The moment Jae-Hyun locked eyes with the Judicator of Chains, he knew—this was unlike any enemy he had faced before.
It stood like an executioner of the damned, its colossal frame unmoving, as if it had all the time in the world. The ruins trembled beneath its weight.
The void in its helmet stared back at him, empty yet burning with a deep crimson glow—the same energy that coursed through his own body. The realization sent a chill down his spine, but he had no time to dwell on it.
Then, it moved.
And the city collapsed.
The Judicator took a single step, and the entire battlefield cracked beneath its weight. Chains erupted from the ground, snapping toward Jae-Hyun like serpents made of steel.
He barely dodged in time. The moment his foot left the ground, a massive warhammer came crashing down, smashing through the pavement with an impact that sent shockwaves tearing through the ruins. A deep crater replaced where he had stood just seconds ago.
Jae-Hyun twisted midair, counterattacking—
CLANG!
His blade bounced off the Judicator’s shield.
His arms rattled from the impact, the force too much to break through. His instincts screamed at him—
This thing wasn’t just big. It was built to last.
Before he could regain his footing, the summoning tome flipped open, pages turning by themselves. A low, guttural chant echoed across the ruins.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Then, they appeared.
A swarm of shadowy enforcers, faceless figures clad in rusted armor, rising from the very ground.
Jae-Hyun gritted his teeth. Of course it could summon.
I don’t have time for this.
Jae-Hyun launched forward, cutting through the first enforcer in a single stroke. It dissolved instantly.
They’re weak individually, but they’ll keep me busy.
The Judicator didn’t wait.
Its chains lashed out again, and this time, Jae-Hyun was half a second too slow.
The bindings clamped around his left arm, dragging him toward the towering executioner.
The warhammer rose again.
If that lands, I’m done.
In a desperate move, Jae-Hyun drove his sword into the ground, summoning every shadow soldier he had left.
They rushed the Judicator at once, slamming into its towering frame. It barely flinched.
But it was enough.
Jae-Hyun wrenched himself free, rolling to the side as the warhammer crashed down, obliterating another section of the battlefield.
The system laughed.
“Struggling already? You’re not even at the best part.”
Jae-Hyun exhaled sharply. Tch. I hate this thing.
He gritted his teeth as he observed the battlefield. His army of shadows had been hammering at the Judicator’s defenses for what felt like an eternity, yet the colossal executioner stood unwavering, as if their efforts were meaningless. Every strike, every attack barely chipped away at its armor.
Jae-Hyun himself had landed dozens of blows, some aimed at the gaps in its plating, others infused with abyssal energy—but the damage was painfully slow. Too slow.
His stamina was dwindling, his breath growing heavier, yet the Judicator remained as imposing as ever.
This thing is an absolute monster.
He adjusted his stance. If brute force wasn’t enough, he had to change the way he fought. And fast.
Jae-Hyun landed hit after hit, but the damage barely made a dent.
No matter how many times he struck, the Judicator of Chains barely seemed affected, its massive frame absorbing the punishment like an unbreakable fortress.
The massive colossus continued moving forward, unrelenting, absorbing punishment like a machine that refused to break.
It had been nearly an hour. Maybe two. Jae-Hyun wasn’t even sure anymore. His body screamed, his stamina dwindled, but the boss remained standing.
I’ve thrown everything at it, and it’s still going…
He gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance, his mind racing. This wasn’t sustainable.
He had to find another way.
Jae-Hyun launched forward again, his blade striking the Judicator’s armor with precision. Another hit, another fraction of damage—it was excruciatingly slow. The battle felt endless, each successful strike taking an eternity to show any real progress. He pulled back, panting, watching the boss’s health decrease at a pace that made his exhaustion feel unbearable.
It’s taking too long.
He had been chipping away at this monster, barely making progress. He had used every strategy, every technique, every ounce of strength to bring it down, and still, the Judicator of Chains refused to fall.
His summons clashed against its towering form, but they, too, were failing. Even Kaelzar’s devastating strikes barely left a dent.
Damn it. His stamina wasn’t going to hold out much longer.
Then—
Jae-Hyun landed another strike, the impact reverberating up his arms. The boss’s health ticked downward—slow, agonizingly slow.
At 40% HP, the Judicator threw its shield aside.
The moment it hit the ground, the entire city shifted.
"Shit... Just how heavy was that thing?" he muttered under his breath, panting.
Chains burst from the streets, rising like spires, turning the battlefield into a death trap.
The Judicator, now faster, more aggressive, swung its warhammer with terrifying force, each impact sending shockwaves that shattered nearby buildings.
The summoning tome pulsed violently, and two new enforcers emerged—
But this time, they didn’t attack.
They fused into the Judicator’s armor.
Its body shifted, growing even more resilient.
Jae-Hyun’s heart pounded. This thing wasn’t just tanky—it was evolving mid-fight.
The system chimed in mock amusement.
“Oh? You thought this would be a fair fight?”
Jae-Hyun ignored it.
He was done playing defensive.
Jae-Hyun barely had a moment to breathe before the Judicator of Chains surged forward—and this time, it was different.
The towering colossus that had once moved with imposing, deliberate steps was now faster, relentless, unshackled. The weight of its body did nothing to slow it down. Every attack came faster, stronger—just as devastating as before, but now near impossible to react to.
Jae-Hyun dodged the first swing by the barest fraction of a second, the hammer slamming into the ground behind him, blasting debris and stone into the air. He didn’t even have time to recover before the chains lashed out, one wrapping around his leg, another shooting toward his arm.
He twisted violently, barely tearing free—but the delay cost him.
The warhammer came down again—this time, it landed.
A sickening crack rang out as Jae-Hyun was sent flying through a collapsed building, his back slamming into broken stone. His vision flickered, his ribs screaming in agony.
His body refused to move.
Damn it—damn it—MOVE!
The Judicator was already approaching, the sheer weight of its steps shaking the crumbling cityscape. There was no time left.
Jae-Hyun forced himself upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t match this thing in a direct fight—he had to fight smarter.
His eyes darted to the ruined buildings, the broken structures towering above him. This was his only advantage.
Jae-Hyun ran—not away, but through the wreckage, forcing the Judicator to follow. The city was collapsing around them, chunks of stone crumbling under the weight of their battle.
A massive chain shot past his head, embedding itself into a building beside him. The moment Jae-Hyun turned, the chain tightened—and the entire structure was ripped from its foundation, sent crashing toward him in a storm of rubble.
Jae-Hyun barely dodged in time, shards of stone cutting into his skin. His body screamed in protest, his vision blurring—but he couldn’t stop.
Then another hit.
The gauntlet slammed into his torso, sending him sprawling. He coughed violently, blood staining the ground beneath him. His hands shook as he gripped his sword, struggling to lift it.
The Judicator wasn’t slowing down.
This wasn’t just a punishment. It was execution.
Jae-Hyun pushed himself to his feet, his body barely responding.
He needed to turn the battlefield against the Judicator.
With one last burst of energy, he led the monster toward the most unstable section of the ruins.
As expected, the Judicator followed, its sheer mass crushing the weakened ground beneath it. Buildings trembled, walls began to collapse.
Jae-Hyun jumped at the last second, twisting in midair, just as the Judicator’s weight caused the street to cave in beneath it.
For the first time, it was off-balance.
The Judicator lurched forward, its massive form tilting as the ground beneath it crumbled. It swung its hammer wildly, trying to regain its footing, but the ruins betrayed it. The colossus, which had once moved with absolute certainty, now struggled—just for a moment.
That moment was all Jae-Hyun needed.
Jae-Hyun didn’t hesitate.
He descended like a blade of judgment, his sword aimed for the core.
The Judicator swung—
Jae-Hyun ducked under the hammer, pivoted, and drove his blade into the exposed core.
For the first time—it reacted.
The crimson energy surged violently, and the Judicator let out a deep, guttural roar.
Jae-Hyun didn’t let up.
He summoned every last ounce of power he had, his body screaming in protest as he drove his sword deeper.
A final massive explosion of energy erupted, sending him flying backward—
And then, silence.
As the crimson glow flickered, the Judicator raised its warhammer one last time, its movements sluggish, desperate—refusing to fall. But the energy in its core surged violently, its own power betraying it. The hammer slipped from its grasp, crashing to the ruined ground below.
Then, finally—it fell.
The Judicator remained standing.
For a moment, Jae-Hyun thought it hadn’t worked.
Then, the crimson glow in its core flickered.
The towering colossus slowly dropped to one knee.
Then—
A voice. A voice he knew.
“You did well.”
The Demon King’s voice echoed from above.
Jae-Hyun’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t need to look to know who had spoken.
The Judicator collapsed, fading into dust.
The battle was over.
Jae-Hyun staggered, barely able to keep himself upright. His entire body throbbed in protest. Blood dripped from his side, staining the fractured pavement beneath him. He reached for a potion, downing it in one gulp—only to feel the wound on his torso remain untouched, the deep scar refusing to fade.
A permanent mark of this battle.
Jae-Hyun exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he checked the system timer. Two more days.
He had already pushed beyond anything he thought was possible, yet he was about to push even further. His entire body screamed for rest, but he couldn’t afford to stop. Not now.
He quickly went over his supplies, managing what little he had left. His potions were dangerously low—he had burned through them at a ridiculous pace just to stay standing. Buying more was going to cost him heavily.
Survive, adapt, endure.
His gaze flickered to his system status.
XP Multiplier: 3.12x
He clenched his fists. This was the reason he had to keep going. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.
With five-minute rest periods, the next two days would be worse than everything he had endured so far. There would be no more bosses, just endless waves of escalating enemies.
He had to push past the limit.
The first wave of the extra grind arrived.
Jae-Hyun inhaled, his grip tightening around his sword.
Then, he moved.
He had underestimated the difficulty.
By the 36-hour mark, his body was on the verge of total shutdown.
The monsters had gotten exponentially stronger. Even with his level-ups, the sheer endurance battle was breaking him apart. He had stopped counting kills long ago. At some point, it became a blur—
Attack. Dodge. Drink potion. Move.
Again and again. His movements had slowed, his swings had weakened, but he refused to stop.
The XP multiplier had skyrocketed.
XP Multiplier: 28.12x.
He glanced at his system interface, his fingers twitching slightly against the screen. Was this real? His breathing slowed as he stared at the numbers. This wasn’t just a power boost—this was unnatural. No climber, no hunter, had ever grown this fast. He had forced the system to acknowledge him, and this was the result.
Level 59.
Borderline Level 60.
Jae-Hyun let out a ragged breath. He had climbed nearly fifteen levels in a single punishment. His mind barely processed it—he was too numb with exhaustion.
What rank does that even put me at?
But before he could think about it further, his vision swam.
He was standing at the top of a ruined building, barely able to move.
His entire body burned, his hands refused to tighten around his sword, and his legs wobbled beneath him.
This was it. This was the longest he could stand.
He had promised himself two days—but his body had given up before his mind could.
Jae-Hyun exhaled deeply.
His hands trembled, his body barely able to support itself. He knew he had hit the absolute limit.
He tried to take another step forward—
His vision blurred. His breath came in ragged bursts. He had felt exhaustion before, but this—this was different. His body no longer listened to him, his legs no longer obeyed. Even as he tried to push forward, he could feel his strength slipping, his mind screaming at him to stop.
His knee buckled.
He caught himself at the last second, gripping onto a broken pillar for support.
He looked down at himself—covered in blood, his coat shredded, his body a mess of wounds and bruises.
If he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t make it.
The system chimed in.
“You have reached your limit.”
Jae-Hyun sighed, shaking his head weakly. For the first time, the system wasn’t mocking him.
He smirked faintly. So even you acknowledge it, huh?
Then, something surprising.
“You have endured beyond expectation. Acknowledged.”
A pause. Then, as if considering something else, the system added—
“Observation logged.”
Not a taunt. Not a sarcastic remark. Acknowledgment.
Jae-Hyun let out a low chuckle. It felt ridiculous to be recognized by the same system that had spent days trying to break him.
His fingers flexed slightly, barely gripping the hilt of his sword.
“Do you wish to leave?”
He took another slow breath, letting his gaze drift across the shattered cityscape one last time.
Then, he nodded.
"Yeah. I’m done."
System Notification: Exiting the Fracture.
Jae-Hyun stepped into his hotel room, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on him like an iron vice. The moment the door shut behind him, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
And then—
"You look horrible. Looks like you went through hell."
Ahri’s voice came from the couch near the window, sharp and immediate. She was already inside, waiting for him. Jae-Hyun barely had the energy to react—he had given her a key before he left, knowing she’d want to be here when he returned.
She stood up quickly, her expression tight with something between frustration and relief. "You stayed two extra days?" Ahri’s voice was sharp as she stood up quickly, crossing her arms. Her foot tapped against the floor, her expression tight with something between frustration and relief. "What the hell happened?"
Her voice was edged with anger, but her eyes told a different story.
"I was worried, Jae-Hyun..." Her voice dropped slightly, frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I thought—" She cut herself off, shaking her head before crossing her arms tighter. "I thought you were actually going to die this time."
She stood up, crossing her arms as she scanned him from head to toe. Her sharp eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture was evident.
"You stayed two extra days..." Her voice was calm, but the underlying frustration was there. "Knowing I was waiting for you?"
Jae-Hyun exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'll explain."
"You better."
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Ahri’s frustration was clear—she was pissed, but underneath it, there was something else. Relief.
She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "Whatever. You’re back now."
She turned and walked toward the small dining table, where two takeout boxes sat. "I brought food, but it’s cold now." She slid one toward him. "I was going to eat," she muttered, nudging the takeout box forward. "But I didn’t want to eat alone."
Jae-Hyun blinked. "You didn’t have to—"
"Shut up and eat."
Her tone left no room for argument. He sat down, prying open the container. The food was indeed cold, but right now, it didn’t matter. The moment he took the first bite, his body relaxed for the first time in days. The warmth, even dulled by time, was something he hadn’t felt in too long.
They ate in silence, Ahri stealing occasional glances at him as if to make sure he wouldn’t drop dead mid-meal. She didn’t press him for details—not yet. She simply let him eat.
When they were done, she leaned back against the chair, arms crossed again. "So? What the hell happened in there?"
Jae-Hyun let out a slow breath before answering.
And then he proceeded to explain more or less what happened.
Ahri listened, her eyes never leaving him. As he spoke, her expression darkened in places—especially when he mentioned the ten-minute rest periods, the final boss, and the choice to stay longer.
When he finished, she sighed. "So, you almost died. Again."
"More or less."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Seven days of non-stop fighting, and you thought, ‘why not push for two more?’ You're an idiot."
Jae-Hyun smirked. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
They kept chatting and eating the cold meal. Despite its temperature, Jae-Hyun savored each bite—it had been too long since he had a proper meal. Ahri, for all her complaints, didn’t rush him. She simply sat there, occasionally picking at her food, but mostly watching him, ensuring he was still holding himself together.
When they were done, she stood up, grabbing her coat. "I’m leaving. You need to rest."
He expected her to just walk out, but she hesitated near the door. Without looking at him, she muttered, "If you’d come back any later, I would’ve killed you myself."
Jae-Hyun let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Now that sounds more like you."
Ahri clicked her tongue. "Just don’t make me have to consider it next time."
And then she left.
The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside, but it did little to calm the storm in her mind.
Jae-Hyun had changed.
She could feel it the moment he walked in the door. His presence, his aura—everything about him was heavier, sharper, more refined.
She had been left behind.
She clenched her fists. In just a few hours in the real world, Jae-Hyun had widened the gap between them in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. The power he had gained, the sheer endurance he had developed—she could feel it, just standing near him.
And it frustrated her.
Not because she envied him.
Because she refused to be left behind.
Ahri took a deep breath, letting the night air fill her lungs before exhaling slowly.
I have to get stronger.
She had already lost too much—she refused to lose him to the gap widening between them.
She had promised herself she would keep up. That she would stand beside him, not in his shadow. And now, after hearing what he went through, she knew—she was still far too weak.
She glanced up at the towering city skyline, the stars barely visible past the artificial lights.
Her path was clear.
She had work to do.
And she would not fall behind again.
The hot water ran down Jae-Hyun’s back, washing away the dried blood and grime that had clung to him since the moment he stepped into the Fracture.
The warmth seeped into his skin, unwinding muscles that had been locked in tension for what felt like an eternity. His fingers pressed against his side, feeling the bruises beneath the surface—his body, once accustomed to pain, now barely responding. When he reached up to run his hands through his hair, his arms felt like lead. A deep ache settled into his bones, as if his body had finally realized it was allowed to hurt.
He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles, letting the water cascade over him as he exhaled slowly. His body was exhausted—beyond exhausted—but his mind was still running, still calculating.
What’s next?
There was only one answer.
The Path to Hell.
He had unlocked the quest, but to access it, he needed to clear Floor 30 of the Tower.
His grip tightened slightly. That would be his next step.
But even as he thought about it, a question lingered in his mind. What would be waiting for him on the other side? The system never gave anything for free. And if the punishment had been this brutal... then what kind of hell was he truly stepping into?
But there was something else that nagged at him.
Where did he stand now?
After pushing himself beyond human limits in that punishment, after leveling to 59, how did he compare to the other hunters? Where did his strength place him in the current rankings?
He needed to find out.
For now, though, none of that mattered.
As he stepped out of the shower, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His gaze drifted downward, settling on the scar across his torso—a mark that potions couldn’t heal, a reminder of how close he had been to death. He traced his fingers over the jagged wound, his breath slow and measured. For a moment, the memory surfaced—the crushing weight of the Judicator's blow, the sickening crack of his ribs, the suffocating realization that he might not get back up. He had barely survived. Would there come a day when every battle left something behind? Was this just the first of many scars to come? He ran his fingers over the jagged skin, exhaling slowly.
Reality settled in. His body felt heavier than ever, his limbs sluggish, his vision dimming at the edges. Even now, with nothing chasing him, no timer ticking down, his mind wouldn’t quiet. His body had left the Fracture, but had his mind? Each time he closed his eyes, he swore he could still hear the system’s voice. The endless cycle of waves, the mocking challenges. He shook his head, trying to push it all away.
He barely made it to the bed before collapsing onto it, not even bothering to pull the covers over himself.
The exhaustion he had been holding back for days finally crashed over him in full force.
His breathing slowed. His thoughts faded.
Jae-Hyun barely had the energy to move. His muscles refused to respond, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. The moment he let go, his body surrendered completely. His muscles stopped obeying, his breathing slowed. His fingers twitched at his sides, but there was no strength left to move them. The weight of the past week pressed down, suffocating and inescapable. And yet, despite the exhaustion, there was something oddly comforting about it. There was nothing left to do. No fight to win. No battle to prepare for. He could finally—truly—rest.
Jae-Hyun was unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity—
He slept.
UPDATE: I'll be taking a little break from publishing chapters, the reason being that I'll be reworking the first couple chapters due to some feedback. I hope you understand and stick around to see the results. I am aiming for 2 week break. I'll be back soon! ??